Grease was the first thing I remember about that night.

My breath hitched in my throat.

I didn't have time to run to the door. I threw myself behind the heavy velvet curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling balcony windows, pressing my back against the cold glass, holding the red ledger tightly against my chest.

The study door creaked open.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor, stopping near the desk.

“Is everything ready for the vote?” Silvio’s harsh voice rasped.

“Yes, Don Silvio,” a bodyguard replied. “The Capos are assembled in the ballroom. Don Carmine said he is ready to vote against Dante the moment you present the motion.”

“Good,” Silvio chuckled—a dry, rattling sound. “Dante thinks he’s so clever. He thinks keeping that old senile fool around makes him look noble. Tonight, I take the family back. And once I have the crown, I’ll sell those docks to Moretti for twenty million.”

I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to stay completely silent behind the thick curtains.

Silvio walked toward the desk, the sound of paper rustling filling the room. “Where is the file on the girl?”

“On the desk, boss,” the guard answered. “We checked her background. She’s nobody. Just a orphan from the South Side, working double shifts at a diner to pay off her mother’s hospital bills.”

Hearing my life described so cold and empty made a strange heat rise in my chest. They saw me as a nobody—a bug to be crushed beneath their expensive leather shoes.

“Good,” Silvio said. “After the meeting, have Vinnie dump her in the river. I don't want any loose ends connected to Arthur’s little night walk.”

They were going to kill me anyway. No matter what I did, Silvio had already marked me for death.

The heavy footsteps moved away from the desk toward the hallway. “Let’s go,” Silvio commanded. “It’s time to bury my nephew.”

The study door clicked shut.

I waited five agonizing seconds before pulling back the curtain. I didn't creep out. I ran.

I tore through the service hallways, ignoring the burning in my lungs, clutching the red ledger like it was my golden ticket to survival. When I reached the main staircase overlooking the grand ballroom, I could hear Silvio’s voice booming across the crowd of Capos below.

“—Dante Rossi is unfit to lead!” Silvio bellowed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “He prioritizes a dying old man over the business of this family! I call for an immediate vote of no confidence!”

I reached the top of the marble staircase, looking down at the sea of dark suits. Dante stood near the center of the room, isolated, surrounded by men who looked ready to draw their weapons.

His dark eyes flicked up to the balcony.